


An Old Man's Promise, A Young Man's Dream

by ByThePowerOfScience



Category: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Multi, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26887720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByThePowerOfScience/pseuds/ByThePowerOfScience
Summary: After the tragic passing of Thaddeus Thatch, Preston B. Whitmore is not keen on letting his promise to help find Atlantis die alongside his best friend. He works to gather the original team, plus a few new faces, and get an expedition started to find the mystical lost city.He's going to get the best of the best for the trip. Geologists, mechanics, demolitions experts... and hopefully an expert in gibberish just as good as his best friend was.
Relationships: Kida Nedakh/Milo Thatch
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	An Old Man's Promise, A Young Man's Dream

There were very few who actually knew who Preston B Whitmore was.

Oh, there were thousands who knew of Mr. Whitmore. You had to be a fool of a fool not to know about the company the man had started, and its long and powerful reach. How this company, despite it’s shadowy CEO that no one ever seemed to see, somehow was always present at every deal that was even remotely related to an industry they dabbled in. You want to build a railroad? Before you even get to the meeting, Whitmore is already signing the final agreements. A governmental law has been passed allowing for some more logging? The ink hasn’t even dried on the congressmen’s pen before Whitmore’s company is already chopping down the first oak. A shipping company needs a new line of freighters and will pay for only the top of top in ships? Before you can even smell the salty sea air, Whitmore already has associates breaking bottles of the best champagne on the side of the company’s brand new shipping fleet.

But despite this almost omnipresence in the business world, very few actually knew what Whitmore looked like. Perhaps that is why no one batted an eye as a short older gentleman slowly walked through the graveyard, dressed in a black tux that cost the estimated net worth of several actors and even a couple presidents. No heads turned as he slowly walked past grave after grave, his hand tight around an old hickory cane that he only needed when his emotions became too heavy for his body to bear. 

Finally, the older gentleman stopped in front of a single gravestone. The earth in front of it was still freshly turned, but grass was starting to sprout. The gravestone still had a bouquet of flowers, though the flowers were wilted and turning to mulch. The older gentleman sighed, taking knee and patting the gravestone.

“Thaddeus… If I told you once, I told you a thousand times. I was not allowed to outlive you.” He chuckled softly, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “I mean for god’s sake, ya old coot… You had it all. A family who loved you, a mind as sharp as a tack, and that book…” Mr. Whitmore sniffled, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket.

“You were going to discover Atlantis, old friend… We were going to make the find of the century and show those old fogeys at the museum who the true genius was…” He sighed, his fingers slowly tracing over the date of death. “But you had to go and… God Thaddeus… Why did you have to leave me, old friend?”

Mr. Whitmore did not move for several minutes after that, aside from the heaving of his body as he sobbed for the loss of his best friend. If Preston B. Whitmore could have his way, he would march right into that museum and deliver some righteous justice to those morons who dared to make fun of Thaddeus, who took his friend away from him. Sure, the official cause of death was a stroke, but Preston knew that a great deal of stress could easily cause a stroke. Hence why he took up yoga as a de-stresser. Oh but Thaddeus… Preston couldn’t even imagine the stress of spending your life being treated as a joke by your colleagues, only to finally find the piece of proof you have been searching for, and still be treated like a joke. 

“But…” Preston slowly rose to his feet, a smile coming across his face. “I made you a promise all those years ago Thaddeus. You find the journal? I’ll finance the expedition and kiss you right on the mouth.” Preston chuckled softly as he touched his lips. “I got the latter part done the day you found the journal. But as for the former…”

Preston turned around, seeing his assistant Helga making her way across the graveyard to him. She had been here a few days ago for the more public portion of the funeral, and since had been working on gathering information on all those who Preston would need to fulfil his final promise to Thaddeus.

“The only I would be missing is an expert in gibberish. Maybe it’s time I bring that grandson you talked so highly of into our little bet. That way when I join you in whatever comes after all this, I can hug you with a clear conscious.”

Preston gave one final pat on the headstone before walking over to meet Helga and discuss how they would round up the old team. Preston was a man of his word after all.

Hopefully this Milo Thatch would be just as enthused to find Atlantis as his grandfather was.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first decent dabbling into the world of fanfics. I plan on adding more chapters with time.


End file.
